


Spaghetti Bolognese

by Saetha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, Sam is teaching them how to cook, Steve/Sharon is mentioned quickly, pure damn fluff, there are snuggles and cuddles and cooking accidents and that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one day at their shared home, Sam decides to do some cooking together with Steve and Bucky. Cudding happens, some accidents, but overall it's more than good. </p><p>(SPOILERS FOR THE END & POST CREDIT SCENES OF CIVIL WAR!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spaghetti Bolognese

**Author's Note:**

> Quick fic that I just HAD to write after coming out of CACW last week (over one week later and I am STILL mad at that first post-credit scene, wow) . I love those three together so much and especially my love for the Sam/Bucky side of the ship has skyrocketed. By the way, what do you call these guys? What's the shipname? (And is it too late to decide that Sam/Bucky should be called 'wing soldier'...)
> 
> Enjoy! :) (And for all those worrying, no, I won't leave my usual fandoms. Allow me those little detours from time to time ;))

“No, _onions_ first, not the meat.”

Sam sighed as he looked at the two men in front of him. Not even a month ago things had seemed so different – Bucky had been frozen in ice somewhere in faraway Wakanda, Steve had thrown himself into work as to forget about that very fact and Sam had been sitting between all chairs so to say, trying somehow to both lead a normal life after everything that had happened and deal with the fact that neither Bucky _nor_ Steve might be coming back to him any time soon. Back then he wouldn’t have believed it possible that he was now standing here in this small apartment kitchen and watching those two trying to make Spaghetti Bolognese with him.

Steve pulled a slight grimace and retracted the hand that had wanted to dip in the ground beef just now. He looked over to Bucky who was concentrating on chopping the onions in front of him into the tiniest pieces possible, with almost frightening precision. _If the Winter Soldier would give up on fighting he could have quite the career as a chief_ , Sam thought. If he actually learned how to cook, that was.

“How come you two don’t know how to make something as relatively simple as Spaghetti Bolognese?” he demanded to know.

“Because meat was something we dreamed about back then rather than actually eating it.” Steve pointed out. Bucky was still furiously chopping away at his onions, but Sam could see the miniscule nod. Steve didn’t add that nowadays he never wasted much time on cooking either, having much more important things to do. And Bucky…well, Bucky’d probably had quite different issues in his head than to learn how to cook. Alternatively being frozen and used as a killing machine probably did that to you, Sam supposed.

“Right. Uhm.” For a moment Sam didn’t quite know what he was supposed to say. Probably safest to simply go back to the recipe for now. He shoved the tray with the half-chopped carrots at Steve. “Here, cut the rest of them for me, will you?”

Steve nodded and took the tray. He had been rather surprised when Sam had suggested to do some cooking this night instead of simply ordering out or do something simple like they usually did. But maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea – Bucky still had problems doing even the most mundane tasks after so long of doing nothing else but killing. And from the few things he had told Steve about what had happened after the fall of Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. he hadn’t exactly been living the best way then either.

“Hey Buck, how are those onions coming along?” Sam called over to Bucky.

“Don’t know. Do they look alright to you?” Bucky gave his cutting board a little push in Sam’s direction. Sam came over and smiled, deliberately letting their shoulders brush when Bucky didn’t step away.

“Looks fine to me,” he said. “Drop ‘em in the saucepan over there.”

Bucky lingered a moment longer with his shoulder against Sam’s before he did what Sam had suggested. Sam revelled in the little warmth that that moment gave him – everyone had known that Bucky would seek Steve’s closeness after everything that had happened but that he would seek out Sam too had come as a surprise. Maybe it was that instant kinship they had felt from the moment on that they had first met – not that of a killer, no, but that of a fighter who would resist fate until the very last moment and do everything to see their comrades safe. Where the Winter Soldier was an assassin, Bucky was a warrior and Sam was a kindred spirit. That Sam had never doubted him like so many others had been an added bonus.

With a movement that could almost be called a flourish Bucky scraped the onions off the chopping board and into the pan. Sam added the celery, garlic and, as Steve was finally done with them, carrots. Steve grinned at the smell rising up from the pot.

“Now _this_ smells familiar. Just like at your Ma’s,” he smiled at Bucky. Bucky frowned for a moment and Sam knew that he was burrowing through the memories in his head, trying to find the particular one that Steve was talking about. On the previous evening Bucky told him that his head often felt like a chest of drawers that someone had upended and then stuffed all the memories back into without any regards as to their placement or meaning. It was hard to bring them into the right order at times, especially when he sometimes didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Steve and Sam had both assured Bucky that they didn’t mind waiting until he had sorted them out, no matter how long it would take.

“Yeah,” Bucky finally replied, the shadow of a smile flickering over his face. Sam added some rosemary to the pot and stirred it a little, smiling back at him.

“What kind of stuff did she cook? Can you remember?” he asked carefully. Bucky had told him that he wanted to remember and that they should keep asking even if there was a danger that one of his darker memories would surface. He’d said that he preferred knowing the good as well as the bad rather than forgetting it all. Steve had smiled at the announcement and pressed a kiss into his hair, looking proud.

“Not much,” Bucky shook his head sadly and looked over to Steve. “Steve, you?”

“Not that much either. But I know your Ma was always big on potatoes. You kept complaining to me that you wanted something else for a change.”

Bucky grinned as Steve’s words obviously brought back another memory.

“Our mothers should have met,” Sam laughed. “Mine loved potatoes too, so much that I began to hate them. Took me years after moving out to make something involving potatoes again.”

They all shared a laugh at that, Steve looking slightly sad. Sam knew better than to ask him about his own Ma – she had been ill for most of her life as he knew from Steve’s words and so he spent most of the time doing the household for them all. Often, Steve would bring the conversations to other topics, such as Bucky’s family or Sam’s own upbringing.

Sam had been surprised to find that Steve and Bucky were at least as interested in his own childhood and youth as he was in theirs. It only dawned on him after a while that, just like him, whilst they might have read about what the world was like when he was child, they had never truly experienced it. And first-hand accounts were always better than history books.

“Alright, what next?” Bucky asked, washing his hands. At least the advantage of a metal arm was that the smell of onions didn’t actually stick to it.

“Tomatoes,” Sam replied promptly and pointed at the refrigerator. Steve nodded and opened the door.

“How many?” he asked and began to count them out after Sam had told him.

“This feels almost like family,” Bucky said of all sudden. There was no mistaking the tone of awe in his voice.

 “Does it?” Sam asked him with a smile.

“Yeah.” That was Steve, replying from where he was now washing the tomatoes in the sink. “Almost like old times when we used to stay together. Just…better. Because, you know, a little less homophobia and fear about how the future will turn out and the next world war.”

Bucky nodded along to Steve’s words. He came closer to watch Steve wash the tomatoes with barely hidden appreciation for the curve of his back and lower half. As if by accident, Bucky leaned against Sam all of a sudden, the warmth of his body so close that Sam could feel a shiver running down his back. It was still more than rare for Bucky to come and search for closeness completely out of his own accord – as if he always feared rejection still. Sam lifted his arm and smiled when Bucky huddled against his side, making clear that he didn’t have any of those reservations right now. He made a happy little noise as Sam draped his arm around his side.

Steve finally finished washing the tomatoes and dropped them in a bowl. As he turned around to get the chopping board and knife he stopped in his movements when his eyes fell on Sam and Bucky before a smile slowly spread on his face.

“Who would have thought. The most feared assassin in the lands is cuddling up to a bird,” he grinned, coming closer and throwing away the towel he had dried his hands with.

“Well, this bird has two wings and more than enough space for a second super soldier,” Sam grinned back. Bucky just made an incomprehensible noise he leaned forward to press a quick kiss on Steve’s lips.

“Take care, or people won’t call you ‘falcon’ for much longer,” Steve kept teasing. “It might be ‘motherhen’ soon.”

Bucky snorted, slinging one arm around Steve’s hips to pull him closer.

“I’ve never seen a baby chicken with such a perfect ass before.”

Sam unsuccessfully tried to suppress his laugh. This was something about Bucky he had never expected – that he had such a wicked sense of humour which could often be outright devious and very much not the least bit innocent.

“You’re such a charmer, Bucky,” Steve retorted and rolled his eyes, but Sam could see the laughter in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well.” Bucky shrugged. “At least one of us has to be, no?”

“Certainly not you.” The reply came from both Sam and Steve at the same time, making all three of them laugh. Sam revelled in the closeness of the two men next to him, thinking how a few years ago he would never even have dreamed of a moment such as this. And that Bucky, the man who had almost succeeded in killing both him and Steve at some point was with them and had turned out to be someone he could truly love, was even more of a surprise. And, biggest of all, that after a mere few months on ice, their reason had finally won out and they had been able to wake Bucky up again, knowing that simply living a normal life and giving him all the help he could need would be much more useful in his recovery than simply locking him away and putting him on ice. Especially now that the book with the words was destroyed and anybody would have a hard time getting to Bucky past Steve and Sam.

Sam’s musings were interrupted by the sharp smell of something beginning to burn.

“SHIT.” He jumped out of Bucky’s and Steve’s embrace and towards the stove where the vegetables in the pot were very close to growing from ‘softened’ to ‘burnt’.

He frantically added some more oil and stirred, shouting for the other two to get the tomatoes chopped and bring him the minced meat they had brought out earlier. There was a hectic flurry for a few moments before everything calmed down and they went back to the usual workflow.

“Okay, from now on – no more cuddling during cooking,” Sam stated, slightly out of breath and glad that he had been able to save their bolognese. “Or one day we’re gonna accidentally set the kitchen on fire.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened,” Bucky murmured more to himself than anyone else. Of course, Sam had picked up on it nonetheless.

“What?” he demanded to know whilst he kept stirring the pot, Steve still dutifully slicing tomatoes and smiling to himself. He clearly knew which incident Bucky was referring to.

“Well. There was the one time Steve and I were on cooking duty somewhere during a mission in the middle of nowhere and we got, uh, busy and one of our tents burned down.”

“Oh.” Sam wondered briefly what the rest of the Howling Commandos thought about them back then – and if they even knew in the first place, although the way they look at each other would be hard to miss even for the most conservative minds. Maybe, one day he would ask Bucky and Steve about it, but not right now. This evening was meant to be fun and relaxing, a way for both Steve and Bucky to find their way back to the normalities of life.

After a few more minutes, Steve was done with the tomatoes and they all sort of gathered to watch as Sam continued to let the meat brown and take on flavour. Sam slid his arm around Sam’s waist and Bucky sidled in from the back to look over their shoulders, already breaking the ‘no cuddling during cooking’ rule.

“It’s smelling even better now,” Bucky remarked and Steve nodded along. He protested when Sam wound his way out of his embrace to pick up the tomatoes and throw them into the pot as well. He added a few other things before coming to the best ingredient last – the red wine.

Steve’s eyebrows arched as he saw the amount of wine Sam put in, but Sam only grinned.

“It’s gonna turn out great, trust me. And I know neither of you mind the taste of red wine.”

“True,” Steve admitted. Sam just smiled and took down the heat on the stove before settling a big lid on the pot and setting an alarm on his phone.

“We should do this the next time Sharon comes around,” Sam thought out loud. Sharon was still working mostly in Berlin and thus only came around every few months; but they had never minded her presence in the house or when she wanted some alone time with Steve. After all, love was one of the few things that never lessened in amount when shared.

“Right. And now we have a good hour to do whatever we want whilst this is simmering.”

“A full hour?” There was a spark of mischief in Bucky’s eyes. “A lot can be done in an hour.”

Sam snorted, even as he willingly ambled along to the sofa in the living room. The three of them let themselves fall on the soft cushions at almost the same time, sighing happily in unison as soon as they were sitting. Somehow, Sam had ended up in the middle again and it didn’t take long for both Steve and Bucky to drape themselves around him like two overgrown cats. Especially Bucky seemed to have the ability to fit a surprisingly big amount of body mass into a surprisingly small space, especially when that space was Sam’s or Steve’s side.

 _They are right_ , Sam thought. _It’s just like family_.

The bolognese, by the way, tasted delicious.


End file.
